To Flirt With Death
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: "She watched him burn, a smile curling her lips..."They always said I was different….they had no idea, though….no idea at all." Death looked at her curiously, silently. He did not talk, not now or ever. But she did not need his words to understand what he was saying." *character death*


_**I do not own the Sims 2, that is the property of EA. **_

She watched him burn, a smile curling her lips. He was screaming, reaching for her, but she merely stepped back, watching his face. Watching the complete terror in his eyes, and knowing that his death would smell so delicious. Watching him die, hearing him scream for the end; she had never felt as powerful as when she stood above her enemies, just observing as they begged her to end it. She understood no mercy, felt no sympathy. Their cries would go nowhere, because all she felt was happiness, watching them die.

He reached out a hand, flames licking and dancing across his flesh. His fingers were curled in pain, and he kept trying to move them, though they were nearly already dead, unmoving. She smiled, beckoning at him teasingly, taunting him.

"Come on, Paul, you can do it." She laughed, dancing a few steps away from him as he collapsed on the ground, trying to roll the flames off of his body. "Come on, Paul. Be a big boy, be a big, _strong _boy. You were so powerful earlier, remember? Do you remember earlier, Paul? When you pushed me up against the wall? When you pulled a knife on me and threatened to kill me if I didn't give you my money?" She could see the terror in his eyes as he realised exactly who she was. What he had done _to her_. "Where is your strength now, Paul? Where is your knife and your threats? Hmm?" She walked behind him, picking something up off the ground. It glinted in the light and she smirked, walking back in front of him. She waved the knife in front of his eyes, still laughing cruelly. "I found it, Paul. Your precious knife, just on the ground. Why did you drop it, Paul?"

"Please…" he rasped, shuddering. The flames were still dancing across his entire body and he was curling into a ball, as if trying to hide from the heat. His skin, she could see, was blackening and she could smell cooked flesh. "Please….please….I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a witch….please….I wouldn't have hurt you if I had known…please, spare me!"

"You didn't know I was a witch? So, what? You would attack a woman as long as she _doesn't _have the ability to fight back? How sick are you? It's only okay to hurt someone if they're innocent and weak? You deserve this, Paul, don't you know that? You're a killer and a thief, and you abuse woman. No, Paul, you _deserve _to die, and you know that. Besides, _I _am no witch, Paul. I simply have various…talents. Abilities, as it were, to affect the world around me. To take the _lives _of those who have offended me. My husbands…" She smirked, recalling the men she had married. "All of them wonderful in the beginning, but one by one, they failed. They failed _me_, and therefore, had no longer any purpose on this earth." She shook her head, the smile falling from her face. "No, they no longer had any purpose, just like you Paul….you, who attack defenseless, aging women. You _disgust _me." She snarled, spitting on the ground before him before laughing, a high, cruel sound.

Paul gagged, realising the woman was insane. He struggled, trying to escape, but she only laughed, knowing there was nowhere for him to go, because his legs, all the way up to his waist, were bound. He could not leave, only burn and scream in pain.

"So, you see, Paul? I am in control here. _I _say what happens, and who gets to live. The Great Watcher above seems to be smiling down on me, because _I always get my way_. Or….perhaps there _is _no Watcher? What do you think, Paul? Hm? What do you think? What did they teach you in school about the Watcher?"

He didn't respond, because his eyes had dulled and faded. His screams had died away, and she smirked, waving her hand. The flames disappeared, sucked away by the air, leaving only the charred remains of a man who had once been named Paul. She kicked his body with one black shoe, eyes widening with amusement.

She could hear the ghostly sounds of Death arriving on the scene, his face cloaked, bony hands clutching his silver scythe. She looked up at him, and smiled, sharing a secret. The gaze only lasted a second, but there was so much information shared between them. Then, she looked away, towards the body that she had already dismissed as having ever been a person. Paul? Who was Paul? All she saw was a dead man and Death, come to collect.

"He's all yours, dear." She said, waving a hand towards him. "He means nothing to me. Take him. I have no more need for him." Death gave her a long look that would have unsettled anyone else, but only made her laugh. "Oh, don't worry. I never loved _him_. He nearly tried to kill me last month. No, no, I was merely exacting my revenge. And," she looked at Death shyly, smiling like a school girl in love for the first time. "I wanted to see _you _again. I've been so terribly lonely. Ever since Hugh….well, let's just say it has been _too _long, my dear."

Death nodded, reaching out a bony hand. She accepted it, taking his hand in her own, smaller hand. She smiled up at him, nestling closely, and sighed.

"Who would have thought I would ever flirt with Death? They always said I was different….they had no idea, though….no idea at all." Death looked at her curiously, silently. He did not talk, not now or ever. But she did not need his words to understand what he was saying. "They took him away. Nerville, I mean. My little boy, gone. They said I wasn't a fit mother, that I couldn't take care of him. He's with the Beakers now, like that's any better for a child. Nerville, my little Nervous."

Death nodded sadly, and they continued walking down the path in silence for a few minutes. Death walked her to the front door of her house, where she dropped his hand, turning sadly towards him.

"Is this where we say good bye, my love? Is this where you leave me?" She frowned, her eyes beckoning him to stay just a little bit longer. She wanted him to stay forever and ever, or just finally take her away from this world. "Is there where we part, so I might remain behind in my suffering?"

_For now_, said a cold voice in her head, and she shivered with delight. It was the first time she had ever heard him verbally communicate in any way, and his voice sent tingles up and down her spine. _I shall be back one day for you, and we shall live together forever. Just the two of us, you and I. _

"Then I shall wait for you until that day," she said softly, before leaning in to kiss him on his bony mouth. "I shall wait for you until the end of forever, if I have to. You are my one, my only, and I shall always be here for you."

_And I here, for you. My love, my only. _

She nodded, turning back to the door. "Good bye, love. Until next time." She sighed softly, opening the door and slipping inside. She waved at him from the window before disappearing deeper into the house. Death gave the house one last glance before walking away, scythe in hand. He had a job to do and all the time in the world to do it. But _her_…she did not have much longer on this earth. Twenty, thirty more years until they would finally be together, side by side. It felt like forever. Death smiled to himself as he walked, avoiding the lamps, with their dull glow. He could still feel her kiss on his mouth.

_I shall love you forever, my Olive Specter. _


End file.
